Month: March 2001

I’ve had it with giving blood samples. I’m squeamish about needles under the best of circumstances, although I smile bravely and don’t make a fuss when they’re rquired. It’s a bit harder now knowing that those samples really mean something. I had more blood drawn today, about two weeks after the last batch, so that my doctor can start to plot curves for my viral load and T-cell counts.

The thought that two weeks may show a change, for better or worse, is chilling. It doesn’t help much to think about how much worse I’ve felt lately, just from the constant stress of all this hulaballoo. I’m sure it’s not helping me much to be so wound up, so lethargic.

But I smile bravely and don’t make a fuss, even though I’d really like to.

I’m writing this post on December 1, 2024: World AIDS Day, and about 25 years or so since contracting HIV. I don’t know exactly when that happened. My doctor informed me of the situation on March 12, 2001, a week after I went in for a routine physical made possible by having a full-time job with health insurance for the first time in a few years. The initial battery of tests suggest I had seroconverted perhaps a year or two before that.

I also don’t know how it happened, specifically. Inferring from the timeline, some contextual cues, and my own recollection of the times when I let my guard down, I can at least guess with some accuracy who the vector of transmission had been.

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